Fine Art Body of Work

"Fall Unto Thy Grave"

by fine art photographer Dan Carmichael

Photography and article by Dan Carmichael
Contemplative image musings by Roberta Carmichael

Some people don't like graveyards. Others may simply fear them. I've known people whose aversion to graveyards was so strong they would not attend the burial of a friend or a loved one. Or even their own mother. I have strived to, but never understood those fears.

Are their fears supernatural? Do they believe in ghosts, goblins, or other unearthly beings? Is it possible that to them, the graveyard is a vortex to a world outside the natural order? Is their fear that somebody - or something - will reach up and grab them?

Or are their fears metaphysical? Does the graveyard proclaim their own unavoidable fate - their own mortality? That some day, therein they will lie - under dirt, in the dirt, to decay into mere dust that becomes one with the dirt?

I've always thought graveyards can be places of incredible beauty. Certainly, not contemporary graveyards. With their excessive regulations on the sizes and shapes of gravestones, they have become places of repetitious boredom. There is no celebration of individuality or of social class.

But rather, the beauty lies in historic graveyards with their exquisite landscaped artistry, the endlessly varied architectural designs, the shapes and colors and textures. Wherein unrestricted statements of social standing are made with grave markers ranging from mere faded plaques on the ground to individual mausoleums and shrines the size of a house. As you stroll through historic graveyards, one cannot look down and help but ponder a gravestone dating back generations, wondering if even a scant memory has survived the centuries.

Because of my love of historic graveyards and an insatiable desire to reveal their beauty to others, in 2005 I conceived a fine art photography project designed to illustrate that beauty. What better way, I thought, to demonstrate that beauty than to unite the bleak desperation that is a graveyard with the colorful and hopeful display of Autumn's bright colors. And so I did. The project has spanned almost 5 years. All images were captured in historic graveyards during the Autumns of 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2009. This body of work is the culmination of that vision.

The blending of graveyard sadness and lively fall colors is symbolic of the mysteries of life and existence and death. It reminds us that all is the same. That we are mere insignificant molecules, indistinguishable from all others. That beautiful, vivid, colorful fall leaves tumble to the ground to join us in our eternal resting places, both becoming the enduring dust of the universe. Where it all - and we all - become one.

Because so much of our life - our existence - is abstract at best, the entire body of work has been done in an abstract style. Each work of art originated as a traditional photographic image. Each image has been manually and painstakingly transformed, incorporating many hours of labor, into the vision you see before you.

The entire body of work consists of many unique images all captured in historic graveyards. Each of the color prints is also available in a black & white rendition. The project is a limited edition, 25 prints per image per size. Prints are made on the highest-quality, museum-grade fine art archival paper using archival ink.

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In Memory of Cooper

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There is splendor in the graveyard. Tread lightly on the grass. The worries that we carried have been buried in the ground. Our spirits are unfettered. We have breached the earthly barriers. There is nothing to hold us down. Cooper has risen. He soars forever.

 

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We Love You Mother

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Mother. Birth-giver. Nurturer. Care-giver. Protector. Teacher. Friend. Encourager. Supporter. Business advisor. Marriage counselor. Grandmother. Babysitter. Elder. Outpatient. Sufferer. Deceased. Selfless and giving, gone forever, but not in our hearts. We love you mother. We miss you.

 

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Dearest Father, Loving Children

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Three hearts entwined in love. Together again at last. Resting beneath the golden canopy of time. Always linked - eternally together like a necklace for the gods. Three hearts entwined in love. A father, loving his children. Children, loving their father. Forever.

 

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Fallen Friend, Fallen Leaves

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The russet leaves of autumn still carrying their fiery hues are pressed against the marble tombstone. Clinging tightly as if trying to stop the relentless decay that time will bring upon them. The whisper of death is closing in around them seeking its due. In the weight of time they will crumble into dust and be scattered in the wind. But my memory of you, my friend, will never fade. You will always be here with me.

 

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Life and Death

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Just inside the gates, the grave road entices you onward. Lined with the color of life opposite the shadow of death, headstones dot the way. Tombstones rise like silent shrines. There is a quietness here. Lives end, memories begin. The great and the small alike share the same ground. Death is not an end. It is an equalizer.

 

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My Daughter, My Angel

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Tiny angel wrapped in beauty. Dressed in autumn's brilliant finery. Tinkling laughter, tiny footsteps, dimpled cheeks and downy hair. Love un-measurable. Love eternal. Always a part of me. Always in forever. My tiniest angel.

(Comment: I've taken pictures of this grave many times through the years. It's a small headstone, low to the ground of somebody's daughter.

Many of these tiny angel figurines have always been there - standing guard at the foot of the stone. I've never seen them tipped over, even though, through the years, storms and winds surely did so. Her parents must come back on a regular basis to tidy up - to place the angels where they belong, watching over their daughter.

Crystal glass ornaments and wind chimes hang in the small tree that hovers over the grave, . This picture was captured on a stormy day, right after the rain had passed. As I lay on the cold and soaking ground to take the picture, I could hear the wind chimes softly singing over my head. Like a child's lullaby being sung from Heaven. It's hard to hold back emotions at a moment like that.)

 

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Fading Memory, Fading Name

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Still waiting in the shadows. Time has etched its mark upon my face. Forever standing on the hillside. My name has been erased by the years. The sun no longer warms my face. There is no one left with a memory of me. My soul soars free in the light. I have become one with the fabric of eternity. Soon, I will be gone forever.

 

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Scattered Memories

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Nature has scattered the blazing leaves like trophies at our feet. The sky has left traces of tears at their dying. Marble and stone and decaying leaves mark our passage. Love and memories eternalize our lives.

 

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Dying Flames

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Somber, hushed. Spirits move like a whisper through the empty trees. Sighing softly. The earth is damp with angel tears. The golden leaves embrace the ground. Their life spilling out like a dying flame. Winter is coming, the earth is waiting. Fog descends from above like a blanket. Our thoughts are clouded with our remorse, our pain, our loss. And our silence.

 

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Reflections Like Memories

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The days of our lives are like scattered leaves, fallen one on top of the other. Mundane repetitions with bright gems scattered throughout. Our memories are like the reflection, warmer and brighter. Time brings clarity and discernment to our thoughts. We take with us only the brightest and best of our days.

 

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Joy Will Emerge

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Cold-weathered marble, wet spongy ground. Trees bearing life, stones marking death. Crimson-color leaves spill like blood on the grass. Like the sun burning through, love and memories will soon warm our hearts. And sorrow, like the clouds, will fade.

 

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Golden Time

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Time marches on. Relentless in its passage. The freshness of spring and the lushness of summer turn into autumn's hues. The brilliance will fade and wither to dust leaving the bareness of winter. Each soul is just a sentence that ends with a tombstone. Each soul is etched on the pages of life.

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